


Always yours

by elliceluella



Series: Always and already yours [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliceluella/pseuds/elliceluella
Summary: It’s hard, somedays, because Matt will look or do or say something that’ll push all his feelings to the front, bordering on overwhelming, make them bloom so hard in his chest he has to rub a hand over his heart because that ache he feels is real.It could be anything, from something small like the way his lips pout slightly when he shrugs, to a grand closing statement that earns a collective awe-struck look from the jury. Sometimes it’s the sharp, devastating curl of disdain in his lips, or the way red and raw knuckles tighten into a fist when they hear about bad news.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What happens when you read a short Superman comic and get hit by the feels, i guess

He doesn’t know what it says about him, but after Matt saves him from Poindexter at The Bulletin, Foggy dreams. A hundred and one different ways where Matt rescues him without fail, every single time. 

It’s terrifying, but then terror always turns into adrenaline, adrenaline turns to arousal, and Foggy _wants._ He’s never wanted anyone more than he’s wanted Matt, but it’s out of the realm of possibility, so his subconscious kindly fills in all the blanks.

They mostly end the same: Matt will smirk and comment on how Foggy’s heart is still racing once they get him back safely to his apartment, and Foggy will roll his eyes and tell Matt not to flatter himself. Then they’ll end up in his bed in a swoon-worthy fade to black. 

It’s a publicly known fact that he’s in love with his best friend, publicly as in a circle of one and Foggy intends to keep it that way, because while he knows his feelings are valid on a personal level, Nelson, Murdock and Page is even more important to him. It’s _real_ , and he’s not going to let anything jeopardize their firm that they’ve built back up, not after the shit they’ve been through. 

They’re closer than ever, the three of them, no more furtive lies and hurtful secrets, and Foggy never wants to lose this. He’s learned his lesson hard and well the first time over. This time, their dreams and goals are aligned, and they’re finally headed down a path each of them feels right about. It’s everything Foggy’s ever wanted, and he’s going to do everything in his power to protect it.

Still, it’s painful how he’s got no one to talk to about this, not without risking it reaching Matt’s ears somehow, and no one knows him as well as Matt, so that’s...that. 

It’s hard, somedays, because Matt will look or do or say something that’ll push all his feelings to the front, bordering on overwhelming, make them bloom so hard in his chest he has to rub a hand over his heart because that ache he feels is real. 

It could be anything, from something small like the way his lips pout slightly when he shrugs, to a grand closing statement that earns a collective awe-struck look from the jury. Sometimes it’s the sharp, devastating curl of disdain in his lips, or the way red and raw knuckles tighten into a fist when they hear about bad news.

He finally gets himself a leather bound journal one day while he’s at a bookstore, (the feel of it reminds him of how Matt feels in his dreams in the Daredevil suit, after Matt scoops him up and Foggy gets to lean against that broad chest), and he lets it all out, writes down everything he feels on those days, berates and laughs at himself for how he’s so gone for Matt just from that little thing Matt did that day. His words are light and whimsical on some days, and on others they’re darker and bitter, but no matter what, there’s always a deep undercurrent of yearning that threads through all of it. 

His entries are always addressed to Matt. Sometimes they’re love letters and other times they’re just, thoughts or conversations. 

Foggy writes without filtering himself. He already has to censor his words and whatever bodily reactions he can wrangle from overreacting during their daily interactions, so this journal, it’s sacred. It’s his one outlet. 

It’s a constant effort, trying not to think if the reason Matt hasn’t said anything is because Foggy’s been doing such a good job hiding his feelings, or if Matt’s just politely ignoring all of it to give him some semblance of privacy, the same way he pretends not to see some of the faces Matt makes when he’s too deep into something he forgets to keep up his default cool composure.

It’s hard, because Foggy has no illusions about the type of person he is: he’s safe, soft, and admittedly a little boring by some standards. If he were to describe who he was versus the type of people Matt’s dated in graphic form it’d be a Venn diagram where the two circles never meet. 

And it’s not because he’s a guy, since he knows Matt’s hooked up with a few dudes in college. It’s just...on a fundamental level, Foggy Nelson isn’t... he isn’t what Matt’s interested in, doesn’t have what it takes to rock Matt’s world (and Foggy would know, he remembers all the times Matt stumbled back into their dorm dazed and happy, loose limbed and proud as he flopped into bed with a lazy smile) and that’s okay, sort of, because he’s tried in the past to act less like himself and more like the people Matt likes, but Foggy knew it wasn’t a sustainable plan. He’d just end up feeling stupid about it anyway. It’d be a lie to Matt and to himself eventually.

It’s fine, because Foggy knows he’s still Matt’s best friend and they’d do anything for each other. He just needs to get all his secret and potentially destructive feelings out somewhere.

If Matt has Daredevil to let out the parts of him that needs to breathe, Foggy can have this. 

He always keeps it in one of his desk drawers at the office and makes some excuse for staying back a little later so he can release all of it into ink and paper as soon as he can, because he’s had enough of walking home with that weight in his chest. 

One night he thumbs through the pages and is surprised to find that it’s almost half filled. It’s only been three months.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey Foggy,” Matt calls across the hallway from his office, leaning back just enough that Foggy gets a view of his head. His glasses are off, and Foggy smiles to himself because he just knows Matt’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. It’s a classic ‘Matt in his element on a late summer’s day’ look, one that comes easiest to Foggy’s mind when he thinks of Matt now. A mental profile picture, as it were. Foggy’s saved a lot of those in the past, throughout the different stages of life they’ve spent together— college Matt in oversized sweaters with his nose perpetually in a book, smiley soft holiday weekend Matt in sweats, sweaty focused Matt in all his bare-armed glory at Fogwell’s. “I’m almost done with the Serrano case, want me to tag along on Mrs Chung’s appointment later?”

“Sure,” Foggy replies, and doesn’t give one single hoot that his smile’s in his voice. He’s saving his hoots for more important things nowadays, like making sure his best friend stays alive and his insides don’t spell out _Matt + Foggy 4eva_. “Karen’s meeting us straight there, we can both head down together.”

Matt makes an agreeable noise and heads to the pantry, mug in hand. His stride is easy, his sleeves folded and resting in the crook of his elbow, and his tie’s slightly loose. Foggy’s...not unaffected by the look. It’s amazing how he always fills out all his clothes in the best way, Foggy thinks, appreciating the way Matt moves and how he always makes doing the most mundane things, like getting a refill, such a pleasure to watch. So maybe it took Foggy awhile, but eventually he learned that losing was its own victory when it came to trying not to stare. He takes it all in stride now, wry smile on his face.

It’s a good day. The sun is shining, Matt looks relatively well rested and in a good enough mood that keeping the streak going isn’t even an option for Foggy. 

“Hey,” Foggy says, getting up from his seat, “Mind double checking the time for me? I wrote it in my planner, first drawer.” Matt nods his head and beams when Foggy pats him on the shoulder as he passes him. 

He exits the building and takes a shortcut to Matt’s favorite coffee place. Sure, it’s not going to be quite a surprise because it’s Matt, but he knows it’ll earn him that _gee golly for me?_ smile he’s stupidly gone for, so, everybody gets a treat. 

“I brought sustenance!” Foggy announces when he’s back. That’s weird, Matt’s should already be plucking his coffee from Foggy’s hand because hey, he couldn’t help it, the aroma was reeling him in by his nose and the mind can only control the body so much.

Foggy makes his way into his office, one hand already reaching into his pocket for his phone but there’s Matt, standing over at Foggy’s desk, fingers moving across the pages of—

That’s not his planner. 

Foggy scans his desk and finally spots his planner in a corner on his desk, hidden under some folders. Fuck. It was there all along, how could he have forgotten?

The ringing in his ears grows deafening and the outer edges of his vision darken for long enough that Foggy thinks he’s going to black out. It’s only when his hands start to shake that he remembers he’s still holding onto their coffees, and it takes everything in him to keep them clutched in his fingers. Matt’s shoulders are rigid and tense, and Foggy wonders exactly how much Matt has read, or how stunned he must’ve been to get caught red handed.

For the first time in his life Foggy wishes he had Matt’s skills, because parkouring out the window has never sounded more appealing.

“I’m. I’m sorry,” Matt says, and snatches his fingers away like the pages burn him. Nope, don’t go there, Foggy thinks, his nails biting crescent-shaped marks into his palms. Panic and heartbreak later, focus now.

“No, I’m sorry,” Foggy says shakily, but hey, he hasn’t lost his voice. “I— I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to— I mean, I’m not, I was never going to do anything about all this.” His heart’s pounding so hard he hopes it doesn’t drown out the truth in his words. “Our firm will always be the most important thing to me, I’d never do anything to damage that or make you feel like— I’m sorry,” Foggy finishes weakly, feeling like a deflated balloon. It doesn’t feel quite right to apologize for his feelings, but it’s all he can manage at that moment. It was either that or bursting into tears. 

He does feel sorry that Matt stumbled into his pit of feelings, though. It was never meant to be read, especially not by Matt. 

“No, Foggy, I— I um,”

Foggy quickly reaches for his planner, flipping it open with shaky hands. “We have just under two hours,” he says, and shoves it into his briefcase. “Maybe we could get moving and Karen and I will bring you up to speed on the case later?” Anything but talk about what just happened. Anything but be alone with Matt right now in this place.

“Y-yeah, sure,” Matt agrees, and Foggy catches the way Matt schools his features into a closed off expression as he walks past him.

The commute is pure agony, spent in complete silence and roiling thoughts. No one has enough energy for the level of denial and falseness that small talk requires. 

Matt keeps worrying at the seam of his jacket and there’s a bead of sweat on his temple that just kills Foggy because there’s no way he can fix this, is there? Everything’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable now. Everything they’ve worked so hard to regain, that ease and bond between them, all gone now. 

He’s lost Matt again.

Because Karen is Karen, she picks up on the tension right away, squints at them and shoots Foggy questioning looks during the entirety of going over Mrs Chung’s case with Matt but doesn’t say anything else. He wouldn't be surprised if she’d got half the answer worked out already.

Foggy does nothing to prove her wrong, just goes through the motions during their meeting, going down his list of questions on autopilot. He doesn’t ask any new questions like he usually does. He’s not picking up on anything because he isn’t here, he never really left the office. 

“You’re not having another fight, are you?” Karen asks, bluntly, one hand on her hip, once they’re done. 

Matt twitches and keeps silent, hiding his expression as much as a downward tilt of his chin will allow, but Foggy just shakes his head and pastes on a weak smile. 

“I’m just...think I’m coming down with something is all,” Foggy says, and it’s not a complete lie. Heartache is a totally legitimate thing.

“Uh huh,” she says skeptically, but the squeeze she gives Foggy’s shoulder is kind. “Go get some rest, you look kinda pale, actually.” Foggy musters up a smile before he turns away, apparently still enough self-preservation left in him to know that casting even a single glance at Matt’s expression would be a bad, bad idea.

Foggy barely registers what he puts into his mouth for dinner, the same thought wearing a hole in his mind as it loops over and over, trying to figure out if there’s still anything he can salvage, anything he could do or say to make this less of a catastrophe. He comes up blank.

This is why he kept his feelings private, why they only deserved to exist within him. Apparently having them on paper was asking for too much.

He gives up and lets himself cry in the shower because it’s been building up all day, grieving for everything he’s just lost and dreading the painful interactions he’s going to have to shoulder through tomorrow. Will they be so stilted and polite they might as well strangers? 

Foggy recalls the way Matt looked, closed off and impersonal on the outside but uncomfortable on the inside, and hates that he’s the reason behind all of this. He’s never felt lesser than in that moment, not even when he used to compare himself against all the people Matt got together with. He’s also never felt more alone. Foggy stays under the spray until the water runs cold.

Sleep’s not going to come tonight, so Foggy doesn’t bother with going to bed, just camps out on the couch and mindlessly clicks through news articles and TV shows, never settling on one thing for more than a few minutes. A light, hollow feeling settles in his chest, and it honestly wouldn’t feel that bad if his eyes didn’t keep welling up every few minutes. 

That’s until a knock startles him so badly he almost drops his laptop. 

“Foggy?” Matt’s voice calls, soft and hesitant, and Foggy swears under his breath. He looks through the peephole and there Matt is, in a T-shirt and jeans, trying and failing to hide his discomfort. Foggy would rather much prefer to hide and nurse his wounds in private but Matt’s here so maybe…maybe all’s not lost. Maybe this means Matt doesn’t want them to behave like strangers. 

Or maybe there’s still an idiot part of Foggy’s brain that just refuses to roll over and die.

Foggy opens the door slowly and drags it out a few seconds longer than necessary, using that time to brace himself.

“Hey Matt,” Foggy says quietly, fixing his gaze on his shoulder because Matt’s face is out of the question. He wants to apologize, and then apologize for his apology, and maybe offer an explanation he still doesn’t quite have. Everything’s terrible and his throat threatens to go tight and dry again. Fuck.

“Foggy, hi.” Matt offers a small smile that drops away a second later. “I’m not staying, probably the last person you want to see right now, so I, uh, here,” he says, softly, and holds out an envelope. For a split second he wonders if he’s about to get sued. For permanent emotional distress, probably.

“I’m really sorry about today,” Matt continues after Foggy accepts it without a word, just stares at the envelope and says nothing because he can’t risk his ‘Me too, pal’ turning into ‘Don’t leave me’ when it leaves his mouth.

“See you tomorrow?” Matt asks nervously, a little hopeful.

“Um yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” Matt nods, and Foggy tries really hard not to stare at Matt, but the movement causes his hair to flop against his forehead, and... he looks…lost. Foggy swallows.

“Bye, Foggy,” Matt says, and walks away, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

Foggy lets the door close with a quiet click and just stands there dumbly, so still he can hear the clock in his kitchen ticking. Screw it. He’s going to get himself another beer or two and not think about whatever the hell Matt just dropped off until he calms the fuck down and stops feeling like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin.

It’s almost one in the morning when Foggy finally accepts that he’s probably never going to relax until he just deals with whatever’s in that envelope. He’s got no one but himself to blame for being so careless with his journal, anyway.

Sinking into his couch, Foggy takes a deep breath before he peels the flap open to reveal a handwritten letter. 

_Foggy,_

_Please let me apologize for not stopping when I realized what I was reading wasn’t your planner. I’m sorry for breaking that trust, for the invasion of privacy. I know privacy’s been a difficult issue ever since you found out about my senses; there is no excuse for what I did today._

_I’m sorry._

_But it shattered me to hear you apologize, like your feelings were something bad or that I was going to walk away, because...the one thing I’m not sorry about are your feelings, Foggy. You were the first person who ever truly gave a shit about me after my dad, the first person to make me feel like maybe, just maybe, life didn’t have to be so hard all the time. That it was possible to have some hope._

_You’re the reason why I’m still here._

_I’m sorry if I haven’t let on how much you mean to me. You deserve the world, and I promise I’m going to do my damndest to show that._

_If you wondered why I never said or did anything, it’s because— Foggy, _everything_ about you— not just your heartbeat— dances and lights up; you’ve always been so generous with your love and affection to the people around you. _

_Loving has always been your default, and I’ve always felt so privileged that I get to witness that all the time, that I was one of the people you extended that love to. Your friendship was more than I deserved, and I’ve never dared to hope for more._

_After everything that’s happened, I didn’t think… The fact that you still wanted to be in my life at all, much less be business partners again was unimaginable in the best, most overwhelming way. Thank you for not giving up on me._

_It pains me to think that you thought I knew and yet still chose to ignore it, because the truth is I could never ignore you._

_I love you, Foggy. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, and I meant what I wrote earlier: I’m going to show exactly how much you mean to me, if it’s not too late._

_Always yours,  
Matt._

Foggy trembles when he gets to the end. All this time, Matt was... he can’t believe this. Foggy wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and rereads everything over and over just to be sure he’s not imagining any of it. When he’s done he presses Matt’s letter to his chest and lets go, gives in and doesn’t bother wiping his eyes anymore. 

He wakes the next morning with a smile, letter still clutched tightly.

Foggy gets to the office early. He needs that extra time to get himself together and let Matt know that he read his letter and that it’s not too late, because it’s never too late, but Matt’s already there waiting for him with coffee and blueberry muffins. 

“Hey,” Matt says, soft smile quickly covering his surprise at Foggy’s arrival. “Figured this was going to either be an apology breakfast or day one of…” he swallows hard and shifts his weight, “If I haven't missed my chance.”

“You know I’ll never pass up a chance for a Nelson appreciation,” Foggy says, and for the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t hold back, stepping forward to brush his fingers over Matt’s as he accepts his coffee and lets his body do whatever it does whenever he sees Matt, because sometimes saying “I love you” isn’t quite enough.

“I love you,” Foggy says it anyway. So he’s a sap. Sue him.

If Matt’s answering smile, bright and relieved, is anything to go by, this is definitely day one; and when he leans in to brush his lips with Foggy’s, cupping Foggy’s face like he has no intention of ever stopping touching him, one hand sliding down to his neck, warm and assuring, that kiss feels like a promise of forever. 

So Foggy does the only thing he can in that moment. He parts his lips and lets Matt in, and says _yes_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://ellicelluella.tumblr.com/) or [Pillowfort!](https://www.pillowfort.io/elliceluella)


End file.
